


Another Type of First

by aionyu (Zolatte)



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bottom!kon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolatte/pseuds/aionyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's first time topping. PWP, yep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Type of First

**Author's Note:**

> Been looking at a lot of porn last week. This is the result. /badwriting  
> [Tumblr Link](http://aionyu.tumblr.com/post/29991489411/)

Three slender fingers stroke the inner walls experimentally, and Conner groans into the room. The meta shifts, thighs parting just the slightest bit as if to accommodate the intrusion. His body is sprawled face down on the queen-sized mattress, lamp light exposing every smooth inch, a thick pillow raising Conner’s bare hips above the dark cotton sheets while another cushions the side of his face.

Tim sits naked on his heels behind the body spread before him, hard and leaking from the heavy make out and foreplay session from earlier.

“Does it feel okay?” Tim asks tentatively, his calloused fingers pressing in further.

“Y-yeah.” Conner manages. It feels weird, but not at all painful. In fact, it reminds him of the days when he went in for lab probings, only this time he’s promised more than a lollipop in the end.

Tim was still very much a virgin before he and Conner became an item, and over the months they moved from first to second to third base, advancing as they felt more and more comfortable with each other, both physically and emotionally. So this is Tim’s first time practicing penetration with another, and truthfully it’s Conner’s first time on the other end too (minus probes), and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A sudden spark and Conner gasps audibly, heat pooling low in his abdomen and a shiver running up his spine. Tim’s fingers stroked  _right there_ , and his little intake of breath had prompted the young detective to brush against the spot again, and Conner curls his fingers into the pillow and shudders.

“Can I…?” Tim inquires, the  _lub-dub_  of his heartbeat resonant to both their ears.

Conner nods into the pillow. He exhales steadily to the same sluggish speed of the fingers being dragged out of him. Picking up the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open, the meta turns his head in time to spy Tim roll the last inch of the latex on and focuses his weight over to his knees and shoulders in order to lift his hips for the other teen. His face burns, being exposed like this, and he takes in a deep breath when he hears the slick being applied on.

Tim’s hand smooths over the curve of his ass and squeezes, a nervous sort of smile gracing his lips before the bed shifts and Tim repositions himself between Conner’s parted legs. The tip of Tim’s erection rubs down his cleft and nudges at his entrance.

“Go ahead.” Conner says, his amusement at Tim’s hesitance veiling his own apprehension, but he gives permission before Tim could ask.

And, oh.

He’s being stretched open, the feeling much different from the thickness of Tim’s fingers, and Conner could hear his boyfriend hold his breath, exhaling only when his scarred hips press flat against Conner’s ass. Tim tries to breathe evenly as if meditating to hold himself back—the meta could tell—but when he involuntarily tightens and releases the ring of muscle around his lover’s cock, Tim whimpers and chokes at the added pressure.

He gives another okay and Tim starts moving—two slow thrusts at first, speeding up gradually into an irregular rhythm—and perspiration already begins gathering at Conner’s brow, vision hazing around the edges. Tim shuffles and holds himself up with hands gripping the sheets on either side of the meta, hips fucking his eagerly into the mattress. It doesn’t feel bad nor does it feel good just yet, but Conner is certain that Tim enjoys the pleasure of moving in and out and in again as the other teen bounces off him like a jackrabbit, unable to control and slow himself now, his quick shallow breaths and the sound of slaps from skin against skin filling the room. The clone braces himself from the wild onslaught, enjoying the whines Tim fails to hold back.

He’s not quite hitting his prostate, but when he does it’s one after another after another and Conner’s curses get swallowed by fluff of his pillow. But Tim is already crying out, coming and collapsing over his back; a warm, sweaty weight pinning him down. His hips twitch over him and manage a few more thrusts before stilling, and Tim’s hands tremble on his shoulders for a moment.

“S-sorry,” Tim apologizes embarrassedly, his voice still stuck in his throat. Conner bites back the urge to call Tim cute based on the last two minutes (which he’s smart enough not to mention), lest his boyfriend ends the session right there. Plus they can work on stamina later. It’ll be fun, he notes.

Conner tenses, face still hot when Tim pulls out and rolls off to the spot next to him, his back hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. The teen shakily removes, knots and throws the used condom into the waste bin. He looks over the boy wonder, a bashful blush staining the scar-ladened torso and traveling up his neck to dust his cheekbones. His eyes close—probably still self-conscious—and the rise and fall of the heaving chest reminds Conner of Tim finishing a moderate workout, complete with the image of hair strands clinging to his face from sweat.

The meta pushes up to kiss his flustered face, and their tongues slide languidly over each other before he finishes with a sweet peck on Tim’s nose.

It’s Conner’s turn now.

He pulls back and sits up on his knees, his sore ass resting on his heels. Between his muscular legs, his manhood still stands stiff, thick and wet at the tip, precome smeared from when Tim drove his hips into the pillow. Conner grips the base of his cock and squeezes, eyes closing at the sensation, and fully aware that Tim is watching him. Bait.

A shaky hand slides up his thigh and Conner lifts his gaze to find that look on Tim’s face—a pair of feverish, hungry eyes looking down at him with a quick swipe of tongue passing over that bottom lip, incisors then scraping and tugging over that shiny and wet morsel of skin he had just kissed. Conner recognizes that action, one he’d never tire of and had seen so many times before, one that promises a loving mouth and a skillful tongue. The meta grins and bends over to meet Tim’s lips again.

“Do you want me to wear a condom? I think we still have some flavored ones left.”

“Mm, not today.” Tim whispers, his face so close to Conner’s that their lips brush side to side when the boy wonder shakes his head.

Adjusting the pillows behind him, Tim props himself up against the headboard as Conner moves to straddle Tim’s lean torso, aligning the sensitive organ with his right hand and dragging the head down Tim’s lower lip. Glassy beryl blue eyes look up under black lashes to peer at Conner before lapping the slit with the tip of his tongue. The corners of Tim’s mouth turn up just the slightest, a naughty smirk framing the bottom of his face, and the blood rushes through the meta’s cock. Not that he needs one but this must be the thank-you for his ass, Conner thinks. And Tim lowers his eyes and opens wide.

Conner tries hard not to break the headboard (again) with both hands considering the knuckle-white grasp he has on the poor wood, but it’s difficult when Tim enthusiastically sucks on his engorged flesh, dropping kisses and long, tender licks to the sensitive underside of his cock, his tongue prodding underneath the head and foreskin. One of the boy wonder’s hands strokes from the base, rolling his grip and pulling the flesh deeper into his mouth, then out and back in. The other hand rests on Conner’s hip, thumb stroking the naked skin.

A moan vibrates up Conner’s cock, and the clone boy can’t help but add his voice. He groans into the room, and a calloused hand releases the base while the other relinquishes its grip on his hip, and he knows that’s his cue.

Conner fucks Tim’s mouth and Tim meets every thrust with a practiced bob. Warm, wet heat encircles his cock and a fire kindles low in his gut. Grunts and moans spill from their throats, a long string of sounds that fill the bedroom.

Suddenly his breath leaves him, and the meta’s hips slow down to a halt.

He catches the shy glance of his boyfriend directed at him, and the deft fingers once resting on his hips now tickle the still loose ring of muscle behind him. Two fingers slip in, and Conner pushes back into them, a low moan erupting from his throat. He looks down at Tim again and chokes back a laugh at the sly teen.

“Asshole.” He can see a smirk in Tim’s eyes.

Conner establishes his rhythm again, but this time he fucks Tim’s mouth while Tim’s fingers fuck his ass. The movement of going back and forth and back again is intense, but unlike the ride Tim served him, this time the length probing him brushes his prostate continuously with the movement of every thrust. It’s amazing, so good, and he has to remind himself to do this again. To Tim. With Tim.

A pressure builds up in his chest, the fire in his belly blazing, and it’s all too much, this novel feeling of fucking and being fucked. Whimpers escape from the teen below him, crackles from the wood, and Conner’s own curses spill from his lips as he speeds up with an urgency mimicking Tim’s from before.

“Nn-ngh! T-tim,” he stutters, “F-fuckkk.”

He’s close. So close.

And  _there_ , Tim rubs hard into that sweet spot as Conner presses into the back of Tim’s throat, and the muscles swallow and contract while those fingers dig in deeper and the prickly heat and fire bursts and Conner is coming and spilling into Tim’s welcome mouth.

He’s shaking, tremors coursing through his body as he completes a few more boneless thrusts, his seed spilling from the corners of his Robin’s lips. Conner leans into the splintered headboard for support, his knees suddenly jelly from the orgasm. Cracking his eyes open, he witnesses Tim removing his sex from that obscene mouth and swallows, his hardened hands pulling him in so Conner could take in the image of Tim sweetly kissing the skin below his navel. He pulls back.

“Was it okay?” A smirk played at Tim’s mouth, embarrassment long gone. It’s Conner who feels it now; he came so hard he can barely hold himself up.

Crawling down carefully, his head still swimming post-coitus, Conner leans over to lick at the grin and savor the come off Tim’s face. Whatever game Tim is playing, he’s going to give the boy wonder a taste of it too.

“More than okay,” he responds between lazy, hot kisses, “In fact, I think you’d really,” his hand travels south, “really,” over Tim’s already half-hard cock, “like it.” The meta’s fingers skim over the smooth skin behind Tim’s testicles.

Tim’s eyes flutter and he reaches for the lube.


End file.
